by Robyn Carr
“Her name’s unusual.”
“She thinks she was named after Cheyenne, Wyoming.”
“One of the cities they passed through.”
“You guessed it. Who knows where she’d be right now if Anita hadn’t gotten sick? That’s the only reason they settled down.”
“A haunted B and B, someone who didn’t start school until the age of fourteen, a woman blamed for the death of a local sports hero... You have an interesting group of friends.”
“And everyone knows too much about everyone else, like I told you before.”
“I guess that’s the downside of living in such a small place,” he said. “No one can forget. No one can forgive.”
“Publicity has made the whole world that small for you.”
That was one of his problems. The other was that he didn’t seem to be the best judge of character. Had he been able to detect the deep reservoir of insecurity that lurked beneath Bella’s beautiful face he would’ve had some inkling of what he was getting himself into. But he’d been oblivious. Or maybe Bella was right—and he’d somehow created her insecurity. To him, it seemed as if he’d tried everything to convince her he loved her. He had loved her, more than he’d ever loved anyone—other than Ty. She just couldn’t believe it for any length of time, had to make him prove it over and over and over.
Finally, the Jetta pulled into the street and the SUV took its place. “Tell me this,” he said.
“What?”
“If Sophia knows she’s not wanted, why did she show up at the coffee shop?”
“The news that we got married has been flying around.” She put a piece of gum in her mouth. “Maybe she was hoping we’d be there.”
It hadn’t felt as if she’d come to gawk at him. He’d gotten the impression that she was honestly trying to make friends, maybe even make amends, but who was he to say? He’d just met her. “Tell the truth. You were tempted to feel sorry for her because she looked so depressed when you waffled on dinner.”
“No, I wasn’t. She did a lot of other things I haven’t told you about. As far as I’m concerned, if people don’t want to have dinner with her it’s because she deserves it,” Gail said, but he could tell she was torn.
They had to stop at the next red light, too. Simon felt annoyed by the pace of life here—until he realized there was no point in hurrying. For once the world wasn’t going to fall apart if he didn’t make it to a certain place by a certain time. And he had nothing to fear about being out in the open. There were no paparazzi, no cameras, no Bella and no reporters with uncomfortable questions. He wasn’t even afraid of being recognized, because being recognized here didn’t turn into an embarrassing worship session. These people just sort of stared and murmured, then glanced at their toes if he caught them gawking.
The light turned green, so he gave the car some gas. “Okay, now tell me about Matt.”
She let her head fall against the seat. “We’re back to him?”
“Is there someone else you want to talk about first?”
“Not if it won’t distract you.”
The Jetta he’d been following turned, and he came up on a Prius that was barely creeping along, looking for a parking place—obviously more tourists out to visit the shops on Sutter Street. “He’s that big a deal to you?” Simon said. If so, why hadn’t she ever mentioned him? He would’ve expected that information to come out before they got married.
“He’s a professional football player. That makes him a big deal to everyone, at least around here.”
She’d taken the personal element out of his question, so he put it back in. “I want to know what he means to you.”
“Nothing. We went out once last summer. That’s it.”
Although she tried to shrug it off, Simon didn’t believe he’d misunderstood what he’d sensed at the coffee shop. “Then why does everyone seem so interested in your reaction to him?”
“I couldn’t tell you.”
The Prius found a car with some people who looked like they might be loading up, but they were only storing their packages. “You’re a terrible liar,” Simon said. “Has anyone ever told you that?”
“I’m not lying...exactly.”
“Then what are you hiding? Did you sleep with him?”
Her hesitation told him he’d hit somewhere not far from the truth.
“You don’t have to conceal any indiscretions from me,” he reminded her. “I’m pretty much the poster boy for sin, remember?”
“I didn’t sleep with him.”
“But...”
“We went out once and came close.”
“Aha! Here we go. So he’s your local love interest and everyone knows it.”
“No one knows anything, because nothing really happened. It was one date. So he’s not a...love interest, per se.”
At last the Prius found a spot. “You’re not head over heels,” Simon said.
“No.”
They reached the turnoff to her father’s. “Tell me where we’re going.”
“Home, to shower and get ready for the day. I want to check our media hits and see what Josh has arranged with People on our wedding pics. Then we’ll contact Kathy and see when she has time to show us whatever rentals are available.”
Still intrigued by her self-conscious reaction to his questions about Matt, he returned to the same subject. “Has he called you since the big night? Was he expecting to see you again?”
“What does it matter?”
“Maybe I want to be sure you’ll keep your end of our marriage contract, now that you’re the one facing temptation.”
She folded her arms, which made her look even more prim than usual. “Give me a break. You have nothing to worry about. It’s always been a very one-sided crush. I mean...not crush. Brief infatuation.”
“It’s is present tense,” he pointed out. “And always isn’t brief.”
Her face turned red. “Can we drop it, please?”
She was getting flustered....
He pulled into the driveway, to the far left, just in case her father or brother returned. Their vehicles were gone—thank God—which meant he was going to get a reprieve from the we-hate-Simon vibes that had bombarded him yesterday. “I just want to be sure I’m not holding you back.”
“You’re not.”
After putting the transmission in Park, he cut the engine. “You’ve got feelings for Matt. I can tell.”
“No.”
“What do you see in him?”
She opened her door. “Callie already told you—he’s a nice guy.”
He came around to meet her. “And I’m not. She made the distinction very clear. Which brings me back to Callie—what do you see in her?”
“Don’t hold the way she acted at the coffee shop against her. She’ll warm up to you. She’s just being protective.”
“She’s being judgmental. Hasn’t she ever done anything wrong?”
“Most people haven’t crashed and burned quite as publicly as you have. You have that going against you.”
“Such is the price I pay for being rich and famous.” It was a glib response, designed to cover how it felt to have his every mistake and shortcoming advertised to the public. If not for that added dimension, maybe he wouldn’t have become so determined to prove he’d do exactly as he pleased, regardless of the world’s shock and recrimination. To a certain extent, the worst of his behavior was simply his way of giving the world—and everyone who judged him—the finger.
“Are you sorry you didn’t have sex with Matt while you had the chance?”
Clearly, she wanted to be done with this conversation, so it took him off guard when she suddenly stopped and whirled around. “Yes,” she said in exasperation. “I am. Especially now that I’m getting paid not t
o have sex for the next two years.”
He put a hand to his chest as if she’d just wounded him. “Who’s paying you not to have sex?”
“Our marriage will fall apart the second we cross that line, and you know it.”
The stubborn glint in her eyes offered an irresistible challenge. Gail was so...normal. That was one of the things he liked most about her. She kept problems in perspective and demanded he do the same. Since she’d taken charge, his life had begun to make sense again.
But she was also a bit starchy, and that made her fun to bait. “I’m willing to compromise in that area,” he said. “I’ll give you a night off from our deal if you’ll give me one.” He adopted a sultry tone. “Think about it...all that pent-up desire could be unleashed on your old crush.”
Oddly enough, he didn’t want her to accept, but he was curious whether or not she’d be tempted by the offer. That alone would tell him how important this Matt the Football Player was.
She didn’t take the bait. Grabbing his shirtfront, she tried to yank him toward her. When she couldn’t budge him, and he started chuckling at her efforts, she stood on her tiptoes so she could come nose to nose with him instead. “Don’t mistake the tranquil setting here in Whiskey Creek for privacy or anonymity. Everyone’s watching. You do one thing wrong in this town and you can say goodbye to making yourself remotely respectable.” She let go and brushed the wrinkles out of his shirt. “And I’d rather you didn’t make a fool of me in front of the home crowd, if you get my meaning.”
He lowered his gaze to her lips. She was so close he could smell the mint of her chewing gum. If he kissed her, he’d probably taste it, too. “I guess that leaves us with only one alternative.”
“And that is?”
Tilting her chin up, he brought his mouth within a hairbreadth of hers. “You can’t guess?”
“Sure I can.” Shoving his good hand up against his crotch, she said, “Have fun,” and walked away.
Apparently she’d had enough of his teasing. But something about her reaction to her old flame triggered an unpleasant response in him.
It couldn’t be jealousy, he told himself. It had to be wounded pride. He wasn’t used to being upstaged.
Unwilling to let her have the last word, he called after her, “You’re supposed to want me. I’m the movie star!” as if he was the egotistical ass so many of the tabloids described.
“Some women prefer professional athletes to self-absorbed movie stars,” she retorted, and when she reached the stoop, she tossed a taunting smile over her shoulder. “You should see how big Matt is.”
Simon felt his eyebrows jerk together. “You’re talking about height, aren’t you?”
No answer. She was trying to unlock the door.
He strode over to the porch. “You can’t compare what you haven’t seen. To be fair we should go into the bedroom and check it out. I’m not afraid of a little competition.”
“I want a divorce,” she grumbled as she finally got the door open.
Trying not to laugh, he swatted her bottom. “I seem to have that effect on women.”
* * *
Bringing a movie star home to Whiskey Creek wasn’t turning out like Gail had imagined. Her father and brother had reacted as defensively as she’d thought they would but, except for Callie, her friends had not. Probably because she and Simon were already married. Considering that, there wasn’t much anyone could do to warn her away.
Still, she’d anticipated a bit more...concern.
At breakfast, her old school chums had looked as if they couldn’t believe her situation had changed so drastically, but she’d talked about the people on her client roster enough in the past that they associated her with a lot of big names. They were more surprised to have Simon O’Neal sitting at coffee with them. She’d never brought anyone home before, let alone an actor of his stature, and they were understandably flustered.
But, interestingly enough, they didn’t seem to blame her for marrying him. The guys took it for granted that Simon would be able to have anyone he wanted, even her, regardless of what he’d done. And her girlfriends harbored no illusions that they would’ve refused him had he shown interest in any of them. So there’d been no frowns, no head shaking, no “what the hell were you thinking?” when they got together this morning. Everyone had been too busy trying to acclimate to having Simon around. Gail had almost laughed out loud as all but Callie succumbed easily to his potent charm.
That grin of his was like a slow-acting poison, she decided. It wasn’t lethal but it could certainly incapacitate a woman. It entered at the eyes and jammed up certain frequencies of the brain, making the victim susceptible to almost any suggestion Simon made. That had to be the reason she’d been stupid enough to flash him this morning, even though she didn’t want to be compared to his many other women, didn’t want to become his temporary antidote to grief, didn’t want to be just another meaningless lay. She already knew her self-esteem couldn’t take it.
He’d win Callie over eventually, too. Callie was only holding out because she’d cautioned Gail not to get involved with him, and had been ignored. Callie couldn’t swoon at his feet the second he walked into town or she’d look ridiculous.
“Hey, what’s taking so long?” Simon called up.
Apparently he was off the phone with Ian, who’d been expounding on the difficulties of getting Simon out of his next movie. She could hear the TV but Simon’s conversation seemed to have ended several minutes ago, probably around the time she’d finished reading all the blogs and articles posted about them on the web.
“Just handling a few details,” she called back.
“How are we looking? Am I coming off as innocent? Reformed?”
“America hasn’t gotten that far yet. Everyone’s in shock.”
“I still have the ability to shock people?”
She couldn’t help laughing, despite the fact that she was wounded by so many of the comments she’d read. Being realistic about her own limitations was one thing. Reading so many snarky reasons he should’ve chosen someone better was another.
“They’re calling me Plain Jane,” she said.
“They don’t know you,” he responded.
Nice try. “That comment doesn’t refer to my personality.”
When she heard his tread on the stairs, she was about to turn off her computer. It’d been hard enough to read these remarks when she was alone. But he’d only demand she turn it on and show him some of the press. He had a right to be interested.
“Who’s been writing about us?” he asked as he entered the room.
“‘Perez Hilton,’ ‘Hot Hollywood Gossip,’ all the usual celeb sites.”
“‘Hollywood Hunk Marries Plain Jane,’” he read over her shoulder. “The hunk part is pretty accurate.”
She knew he was trying to soften the blow by making it into a joke, but that didn’t help. She said nothing, just clicked on the other sites she’d seen so he could continue to skim through the headings.
“‘Box Office Hit Simon O’Neal Ties the Knot... What’s Simon O Thinking?... Simon O’Neal’s Latest Debacle... The Real Cinderella... Big Hit PR Scores and So Does Its Owner, but for How Long?’”
“Looks like they’re buying it,” he said.
“Of course they’re buying it. I may be plain but I’m good at what I do.” She could at least take pride in that.
“Come on.” He rested his hands on her shoulders and kneaded the tense muscles there. “I’ll bet you anything that was written by a woman.”
“John McWhorter would be an odd name for a woman.”
“So a gay guy. A jealous gay guy. It’s possible. I’ve gotten love letters from guys before.”
“It doesn’t matter.” She really felt that way. She’d known what she’d be up against coming in to thi
s. Known that everything would be criticized, especially her.
And yet...it wasn’t pleasant to know that the world found her lacking as Simon’s wife. This morning, when she’d flashed Simon, the way he’d looked at her had made her feel drop-dead gorgeous. No other man had ever made her feel so intoxicated with desire.
But Simon was out to get laid, and she’d made herself his only quarry. He was probably using all his acting skill in the hopes of achieving sexual gratification. Considering how beautiful Bella was, he couldn’t have been as impressed as he seemed.
“That’s what you’ve been doing up here this whole time?” he asked. “Reading all this negative crap about yourself?”
“I have to know what’s being said or I won’t know what we need to do to enhance or combat it.”
He didn’t seem pleased. “Why do people have to have an opinion on everything I do? Can’t they just enjoy my movies and leave it at that? Close up and let’s go.”
“I haven’t been crying over it, if that’s what you think.” She stopped him when he tried to shut down her browser. “I’ve been answering email.”
That was true. She’d had to check on Big Hit, see what was going on with the new pitches and assure herself that Josh and Serge were covering for her in her absence. Josh had written, telling her not to read any of the blogs, that he’d keep track of their buzz, which should’ve warned her, but she’d had to look.
“Any word from People?” Simon asked.
“We have a two-million-dollar offer.”
“Hold out for three.”
“That’s what I told Josh.”
He kept rubbing her shoulders, but she didn’t like that he was doing it because he felt sorry for her. “What about Kathy Carmichael? Have you reached her?”
“Not yet. I left her a message.”
“What’s happening at your office?”
“We’re being deluged with calls. A lot are from media interested in getting whatever scoop they can on us, but there are others who are potential clients. Josh thinks we should hire two more publicists.”
“Do you agree?”
She was surprised he’d ask. What did he care about her PR business? “We have to be able to grow quickly enough to accommodate our sudden popularity. And I don’t want the quality to suffer. That would ruin my brand. So, yeah, I told him to do it. Maybe it’s the news of our marriage that’s bringing business to Big Hit, but only hard work will keep that business, especially after you and I split up.”